


Apocrypha

by MrsHamill



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Dark, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-29
Updated: 2006-07-29
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:02:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6037243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To the Wraith, <i>we're</i> the problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apocrypha

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'dark side' challenge on SGA Flashfic so let that be a warning to you.

_The Book of the First Queen:_

* * *

In the beginning time, Those Who Came Before were our gods. They created us in their image and from the rough fabric of our world. We worshipped them and they allowed it, encouraged it. They were there to be followed and they expected us to be led and we were, happily. 

We were. We followed them for thousands of years until we discovered the truth they wished to hide from us: they could be eaten of, too. To drink of one's gods is to touch infinity, it is to become the god you devour. Ultimately, they were weak and helpless before our hunger, not even understanding why we would do such a thing. The answer is simple and so simple they were not able to see it: we become what we drink. We eat of our parents and we become our parents. We ate of our gods and we became as them, only greater. 

We have none of their so-called conscience, none of their altruistic wish to elevate animals beyond what they should be. We were animals once. They elevated us, then we elevated ourselves further, supplanting them as was our right. We were, and are, grateful. We expressed that gratitude every time we drank of one of them, every time we absorbed their knowledge and passed it on to our scientists. 

We became strong, thanks to them. Then we surpassed them and their failure to even try to stop us was a weakness. The strong must rule over the weak -- it is the way of things, it is as it should be. We lost our reverence for them the more they died, the more we fed upon them. Finally they left, incapable of stopping us, their most perfect children. 

They were then worthy of our disgust but not our pity. They fled, leaving our galaxy to us and we took our rightful place.

Now, we have more animals on which to feed. Some of them worship us, and rightfully so. We are their gods. They exist to feed us. This is as it should be. 

The herd will be always be culled before it can reach a stage where it could question us, before it can  discover how to become as gods. We must learn and remember the lesson from Those Who Came Before very, very well. No animals will be allowed to rise too high for we do not wish to be thought of as food. We are gods, now, and gods we will remain, forever.

We are Wraith. We are the ultimate creation, the creation which has taken its rightful place in the universe. Some day, all be ours and that is as it should be. 

If you are not Wraith, you are sustenance.

And that is as it should be.

* * *

_The Gospel According to Steve:_  


* * *

He gives me a name. The talking animal names me, because without a name, I am frightening to him. Without a name, I terrify him.

These bars, this cage... none of this worries me. I am his death and he will be mine and I will drink his terror and bathe in it. 

It is possible the strong ones, the ones who hate as fiercely as he does, do taste better. Many of my cohort and in other hives find it intoxicating to let some of those go in order to hunt them down. The taste of desperation and defiance is sweet, it is true, but the work involved... pah. Why expend energy to hunt when you can merely have them dragged into your presence? The defiance carries the same succulence, either way.

Each of them has a different taste. The old ones taste of experience. The drinking is brief but oh! so sweet. Their sadness adds a piquant sauce to their taste.

Those who are in the fullness of their years taste of despair. They carry worry and fear for loved ones, desperation and urgency to free themselves. Delicious.

The best of all are the young ones. Not too young -- there must be some experience there or the taste is brief and unsatisfying. Their terror; exquisite. Their denial; luscious. Their sense of loss, their agony of missed chances is a finer vintage than any other taste in the universe.

Best of all? Actually, no. Best of all is drinking from those animals who are mated, one in front of the other. Oh, yes. It has been long since I have had that pleasure. I think I will first feed on the other one, the fat one, the one my so-called 'captor' is mated to, and I will do it in front of him. Where he can see, where he can know my pleasure of drinking and his mate's pain of dying. 

Yes, that will be best of all. Soon.

* * *

_The New Testament of Michael:_

* * *

They made me... human. Animal. Filthy. I can barely tolerate the stench of my own skin. 

My queen, she who gave birth to me, will barely even look at me. She uses the name the cattle gave me, the name _he_ gave me. She looks at me like an unclean thing. She looks at me as if I were the cattle. I am not.

The humans continue to prate on how they want to 'fix' me, as if I were a sickness. What I am is not a disease. It is _humanity_ which is the disease, spreading and changing the very order of things. They don't understand; they are not the pinnacle of evolution, we are.

Because of them, because of what they did to me, I no longer remember my birth. I no longer remember my first feeding. I do not remember the animals I fed off of and this is wrong. We keep the taste of those we drink from forever, it is how we grow and become more powerful. The memories of my childhood, being raised as a Wraith, all gone. 

And they did it to me twice! Damn them to the same fate as their ancestors. I will not be made less than I am.

I must take good where I find it. If there is any good to come from this, it is that I understand the animals better than any other of my brethren. If my queen had listened to me, she could have feasted upon them like a banquet. I know how they think, I know why they do as they do, and because of this, I can defeat them. I have set my goal at no less an ambition. The good doctor will be my aid in this -- he showed me no mercy so I have none for him.

I am no longer welcome in either place -- I will not be human but I cannot be Wraith. So I will have to carve a new future for myself, one that is neither and both. If I cannot be as a Wraith and will not be as a human, then I have no choice.

I will have to rule them both.

And that is as it should be.

end


End file.
